


Pointing Me To You

by TheLittlePoet



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlePoet/pseuds/TheLittlePoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras ran his thumb over his forearm, inspecting his compass tattoo- if you could even call it a tattoo- that'd been there all his life. He never really believed in soul mates, despite the obvious truth of Marius and Cosette's, now immobile, compasses which he'd witnessed with his own eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pointing Me To You

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a Soulmate/ Halloween AU I wrote to get into the spirit of Halloween, aka my favorite holiday! uwu

Enjolras ran his thumb over his forearm, inspecting his compass tattoo- if you could even call it a tattoo- that'd been there all his life. He never really believed in soul mates, despite the obvious truth of Marius and Cosette's, now immobile, compasses which he'd witnessed with his own eyes.

He remembers the sheer shock on Marius' face when his compass had started spinning around in a crazy circle, then abruptly stopping after the eye contact he'd made with the petite girl walking out of the flower shop one morning. He knew what it meant, that Marius had found his soul mate; and that he would inevitably bother all the les amis with his tales of love.

Still, he was always fascinated by the little moving compass. There would be days, like today, where Enjolras would sit at his desk, studying or preparing for their next meeting, and the slight movement of his compass would distract him. On rare days like this, Enjolras would stay home and his compass wouldn't move either, only shifting ever so slightly back and forth then stopping again for short periods.

The door burst open, pulling Enjolras' attention away from his compass.

"We come bearing gifts!" Courfeyrac hollered, his voice easily filling the silent room as he walked in.

"He means we brought lunch," Combeferre walked in, placing his hand on Enjolras' shoulder and holding up a paper bag. "From that deli you like so much."

"Personally, I prefer the bakery, you know, the one with the really yummy butterbeer cupcakes? I could live off that butterscotch ganache. But Momma 'Ferre said 'cupcakes aren't sufficient food for lunch'." Courfeyrac launched himself onto Enjolras' bed and propped his head on his hands.

Combeferre shook his head at Courfeyrac, earning a dramatic sigh in response.

"Thanks," Enjolras lowered the sleeves of his red plaid shirt to his wrists. "I'm starving."

"Me too, so let's eat." Courfeyrac lifted himself off the bed and quickly walked out of the room; Enjolras and Combeferre slowly following behind.

“So, what are the plans for tomorrow?” Courfeyrac spoke between bites of his sandwich.

“You mean besides the protest in the afternoon? I don’t kno-”

“Maybe trying to not get arrested this time, I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail like last time.” Combeferre cut off Enjolras and gave him a scolding look.

“Hey, that cop was asking for it!” Enjolras lifted his arms up in defense. “It’s not my fault he didn’t actually want me to punch him.”

“You need to work on your people skills.” Courfeyrac spoke nonchalantly.  
I  
“My “people skills” are “rusty”.”

“We know, and that’s why I’m taking you to a party tomorrow night. A Halloween party.”

“It’s Halloween already?”

“Jesus, Enjolras, do you not get out? Yes, tomorrow is Halloween, aka the greatest day of the year.”

“I thought Christmas was your favorite day?” Combeferre took a sip of his soda.

“It was, until Bahorel dressed up as a stripper Santa Claus that one year and scarred me for the rest of my life.”

“That was pretty disturbing…” Enjolras trailed off.

“He tried to give me a lap dance! Now, I’m not one to refuse, but dressed in that costume was just… wrong.” Courfeyrac shuddered at the memory.

“Yeah, and it was all because he lost a bet with Feuilly.” Combeferre chuckled slightly.

“So,” Courfeyrac spoke up, bringing the conversation around, “in honor of your dire need to get out and enjoy life, Jehan and I will be escorting you to the party tomorrow; and don’t worry about a costume, Jehan already made one for you, with the help of Cosette, and you must wear it, no if’s, and’s, or but’s. The only butt I want to see is yours in that costume.”

“Do I get a vote?” Enjolras’ face went pale at the thought of a costume forged by Jehan; he’s been known for the most outrageous and elaborate costumes. One year, he’d dressed as a life size bouquet of flowers. He wore a plastic suit filled with water and very real, very large flowers sprouting from within the suit and encompassing his face.

“Nope, I’m not even letting you see the costume until tomorrow night; you might “accidentally” ruin it.” Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes at Enjolras.

“It’ll be fun, Enjolras, we’re all going.” Combeferre gently encouraged him.

Enjolras mulled it over. It’s been a while since he’s actually spent a night out with his friends, he’s always been too busy with law school and preparing for ‘the cause’.

“Alright, fine. Just, no tricks this year? I’m still finding popcorn kernels in my shoes from last year.”

“Where’s the fun in that then?” Courfeyrac pouted. Combeferre gave him a stern look and coughed. “Fine. I’ll just tell Bahorel that we don’t need the oil anymore.” Courfeyrac agreed then got up, pulling his phone from his pocket and calling Bahorel.

“Don’t worry, he’s just messing with you... partly. It’ll be fun though.” Combeferre reassured, giving Enjolras’ shoulder a firm squeeze before getting up from the table and throwing his trash away.

~*~

Enjolras managed to make it through the protest without punching anyone and alerting the police. He gave his speech with a passionate fire that could only awaken when speaking for his cause. After the protest, he’d even managed to get a few people to come up to him and ask him about their cause and what they do; he’d given them his whole spiel and, like he inevitably does, reeled them in and got them to stand with him in their fight for equality.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if he got three people or ten people asking him about his cause, because the fact that he’s making a difference and spreading awareness is all that matters to him.

He’d received a few texts from Courfeyrac on his way home; texts he was glad to ignore because each one was a little hint as to what Enjolras would be dressing up as that night.

After setting his phone on vibrate and throwing it on his bed, getting tired of Courfeyrac’s little hints, but still wanting to hear his phone if there was an emergency, Enjolras sat at the desk in his room and stared at his compass.

He’d made an effort not to look at it during his protest, but now that his attention wasn’t directed towards something specific, he let his eyes wander over the moving figure on his forearm. The golden needle pointed south and slowly shifted to the east before stopping a hair's width above the ‘E’.

Enjolras wondered what made the needle move... (could it really be his soul mate?).

Enjolras’ bed vibrated consecutively; after the third ring, he stretched over and grabbed his phone; the caller ID read ‘Courfeyrac’.  
“If this is another one of your hints about tonight, Courfeyrac, I’m getting tired of these games.” Enjolras warned.

“No, no! It’s important, I promise.” Courfeyrac spoke faster with each word. “Jehan just wants to know your shoe and underwear size.”

“Well, I’m a si- wait, what?” Enjolras nearly choked. “Why would he need to know that?” Enjolras’ voice raised an octave.

“Do you want to wear underwear tonight, or not? Don’t worry, I won’t judge you and your life decisions.” Courfeyrac’s cheesy grin was practically coming through the other end of the phone.

“What’s wrong with my own underwear?” Enjolras started to get nervous, (what kind of costume was Jehan making that called for specific underwear?).

“Oh, nevermind, Combeferre just texted me back. He just told us your size.” Courfeyrac’s voice floated nonchalantly.

“Wait, wha-”

“Jehan and I will be there in an hour.” Courfeyrac spoke, cutting off Enjolras with a quick goodbye.

Enjolras felt a mixture of uneasy emotions within him, butterflies moved in the pit of his stomach at the horrific ideas that passed through his mind at thinking about what he’d be dressing as; and confusion welled at the back of his mind at how Combeferre came to know his underwear size, although Combeferre knew everything about Enjolras, Enjolras didn’t think he literally knew everything about him.

Enjolras threw himself on his bed and stared at the ceiling. A sudden feeling of tiredness washed over him and he drifted off to sleep.

~*~

“Honey, we’re home!” Jehan’s loud voice echoed through the silent flat, startling Enjolras awake.

A dark figure appeared in Enjolras’ doorway.

“Good evening.” Courfeyrac spoke in his best Transylvanian voice, raising the cape of his costume to hide his body but stop shy of his eyes. “Ve came to suck jor blood.” Courfeyrac spoke, releasing his cape and showing off his Dracula costume.

“Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty.” Jehan slid past Courfeyrac, revealing a large and rather fluffy bumble bee costume with matching antennae and wings, and sat on Enjolras’ bed, gently placing a hand on his rising shoulder as he got up.

“Is that my costume for tonight? I’m a princess?” Enjolras’ eyes widened, his jaw hung open slightly.

“Oh, no,” Jehan giggled. “Cosette will be though. She’s the loveliest Rapunzel I’ve ever seen, and my work on her hair adds the perfect touch.” Jehan smiled to himself. “You’ll be a god.”

“A god? Like a Greek god?” Enjolras racked his brain for images of gods he’s seen in some of Combeferre’s books.

“Bingo.” Jehan spoke cheerily, rising up from the bed. 

Enjolras followed Jehan into his living room, where he’d left Enjolras’ costume sitting on the couch.

“But this is just a curtain…” Enjolras held up the piece of cloth, a confused look on his face.

“They didn’t wear much back then.” Jehan shrugged his shoulders and Courfeyrac snickered behind him. “Now go shower and put it on.” Jehan nearly pushed Enjolras out of the room and into his bathroom.

After his quick shower, Enjolras inspected the article of clothing, if it even was clothing, trying to figure out how to put it on. He turned it around ‘till he found a hole, which Jehan had sewn a pair of underwear inside what Enjolras assumed must be what he wears as bottoms. Enjolras unwrapped the towel around his waist and slid on the costume, the underwear fitting him perfectly.

Enjolras walked out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet and his skin slightly glistening from fallen water droplets.

“You’re dragging it.” Jehan looked almost offended and walked behind Enjolras. He picked up the piece that had been dragging on the floor and threw it across one of Enjolras’ shoulders, draping it the way Greeks used to, and buttoned the bottom of it to a hidden button on the back of the bottom part of the costume.

“Woah, someone call Zeus, ‘cause they’ve got a missing god.” Courfeyrac teased.

“Bite me.” Enjolras retorted.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Here,” Jehan placed a laurel wreath on Enjolras’ head. “Now you look official.”

“If only we had olive oil to make your skin glisten.” Courfeyrac half-joked.

Enjolras looked down to his bare feet wiggling his toes. “No shoes?”

“Oh, right,” Jehan fiddled in a plastic bag on the couch. “Here, they should fit.”

Enjolras opened the box to brown, strappys shoes. They looked like regular shoes you could buy at the store, but bared some resemblance to Ancient Greek shoes. Enjolras sat down, strapping himself into the shoes and testing them out.

“Very sharp, Enjolras. You look like we just pulled you from Ancient Greece itself.” Courfeyrac spoke, inspecting Enjolras’ costume.

The white satin fabric hung loosely around Enjolras’ body. The bottom half skirted around his waist, stopping just above his knees, exposing the toned muscles of his legs, and leading down to the “Grecian” shoes. The top half of his get-up only covered a third of his upper body, leaving almost his entire chest revealed, showing off his perfectly chiseled features as the fabric slung over his shoulder and down his back, being kept in place by a hidden button in the waist. Enjolras’ hair, still wet from his shower, glowed in contrast to the bright white of the fabric; his golden locks being emphasized by the laurel wreath atop his head, firmly in place just above his ears.

“And don’t forget the finishing touch.” Jehan rummaged through the plastic bag once more and pulled out a U-shaped, stringed instrument. “It’s a lyre. Don’t lose it, that was not easy to get ahold of.” Jehan looked seriously to Enjolras for a moment, before turning to Courfeyrac. “All ready to go!” 

Enjolras sighed slightly and followed his two escorts out of the flat and locking the door before they began their descent downstairs and into the setting sun.

~*~

After the cab dropped the three off at the party, they were met with a rather large building, superbly decorated in Halloween decor. Large, oversized, fuzzy spiders hung along the sides of the building, tombstones scattered the grass with different saying and names, fake arms stuck out of the ground, half rotted and green, witches and mummies occupied different corners of the yard, and large, glowing pumpkins lead up the steps to the door, which was covered in cobwebs and mini spiders.

“What is this place?” Enjolras spoke in bewilderment, admiring the spooky decorations that were littered about.

“It’s the campus’ gym; don’t you recognize it?” Courfeyrac spoke, answering Enjolras’ question. “I guess not, there’s no need to be on this side of the campus, anyways, Professor Lamarque thought it best to have the party here; it’s his year to host the annual Halloween party.”

“And I hear this year’s supposed to be the best yet! He even sent invitations to other schools, like that Performing and Visual Arts School a few miles from your flat, and the Community College down the road.” Jehan chimed in, practically shaking with excitement in his bee costume.

They push the large doors open and a gust of cold wind escaped, slightly chilling Enjolras’ exposed skin. They walked into what should’ve been the lobby, but actually looked like a haunted house straight from the movies. The inside was dark, aside from eery red and green glowing lights coming from unseen locations, and the occasional flicker of a strobe light or lit pumpkin. Bats hung from the ceilings and cobwebs clung to curtains along the wall; they hung from the light fixtures - they practically covered every surface of the room, giving it an abandoned look with spiders all over them.

Groups of people all dressed up in different costumes filled the room, conversing amongst themselves. Freddy Krueger chatted with Dorothy, a mermaid with Catwoman, a zombie with a fairy - all sorts of different people and things chatted happily in their little clumps.

A table sat in the corner of the room, plates of chips and dip set out, as well as bowls of candy and a tray of cupcakes made to look like different body parts. A fountain filled with glowing green punch and and fake fingers and eyeballs as ice cubes appeared to smoke as liquid nitrogen flowed from behind it. A tray of cookies were laid out, decorated and shaped in an array of zombies, ghosts, skeletons, witches, cats, and pumpkins.

Enjolras followed Jehan and Courfeyrac into the gym, decorated more or less the same. At the very far end, a dj booth was set up. Strobe and party lights flashed across the room as they reflected against a disco ball, the beams were everywhere as they flickered through the fog spewing from the machines around the dance floor, falling on a crowd of dancing monsters. More bats and cobwebs hung from everywhere and lifesize figures from every horror movie ever made outlined the edges of the gym. Tables were set up around the dance floor and made to look like crime scenes - some had fake blood stains, some had chalk outlined body figures, and some had fake fingers and toes scattered around it, making it look like a morgues table. At the centre of the tables were rustic looking candlesticks.. 

The large gym was packed with bodies pressing against each other trying to get by as they dance-walked to the music. Courfeyrac and Jehan looped their arms around Enjolras’ and escorted him to a dark table in the corner, where a Rapunzel and Flynn Rider were seated, along with a punk witch Éponine, dinosaur Joly, genie Bossuet, student from Harry Potter Combeferre, Hawaiian hula girl Musichetta, Robin Hood Feuilly, and Axe head Butcher Bahorel.

“Well well, looks like Olympus has a fallen god.” Éponine teased, waving her long black fingernails in Enjolras’ direction. “Nice costume, Enjolras.”

“If one more person makes a remark about me, I will punch them.” Enjolras warns, feeling the subject of his friend’s ridicule today.

“Oh, we’re sorry to upset you, your highness.” Bahorel smirked.

Enjolras spared no time in aiming, he plunged his fist straight into Bahorel’s arm; skin colliding with fake bloodied skin.

“I love it when you get angry, it’s like a small child on a tantrum.” Bahorel joked, unfazed from the blow. It’s not that Enjolras can’t fight, or is weak or anything, he can - he can pack a punch and take a fight on with almost anyone and win, it’s just Bahorel is his Achilles’ heel. When he’s angry and in a fight, Enjolras knows to never try to break up that fight alone. Bahorel can not only take a punch from Enjolras and act like it tickled, but he can throw one right back with the strength of a falling boulder.

Enjolras scoffed at the comment and sat with the rest of his friends at the round table, setting the lyre down. Music blasted throughout the room, and everyone had to yell just to be heard over the noise. When the ‘Monster Mash’ played, all the les amis shuffled their way onto the dance floor, as part of Courfeyrac’s and Bahorel’s demands that you have to dance to that song on Halloween.

The friends moved around the crowded dance floor to the specified dance moves for the song, and enjoyed themselves, mocking each other as they danced, struggling to keep Bossuet on his feet as he kept tripping over his genie tail.

The song ended, and the dance floor started to clear out some, but the friends continued dancing to the next song. Enjolras looked down to his compass tattoo, not having looked at it since Jehan and Courfeyrac appeared at his flat.

The needle was turning in an uncontrollable circle, wilding spinning with no signs of stopping.

“Hey, wanna dance?” Someone appeared before Enjolras, pulling his attention from his compass. Enjolras looked up and was met by a horse mask in a black suit and green tie.

Enjolras looked to his friends, but they were too occupied with their dancing to notice his nervous look.

“Uh, sure!” Enjolras had to scream over the music, and loud buzz of conversation.

Enjolras started dancing, doing the best he could with the fast pace song, his partner easily keeping with the beat.

“So what are you supposed to be?” Enjolras asked, tired of trying to decipher what his costume was.

“You know, I don’t know. It was a last minute thing.” The horse masked man spoke.

“I can tell; very last minute.” Enjolras joked back, feeling at ease with his partner, all nervousness washed away.

“And you must be Apollo, right?” He asked, gesturing to Enjolras’ costume.

“I think I’m supposed to be a Greek god, but no one specific.” Enjolras raised his voice over the cheers of the crowd as the song ended.

“Well, then you must be a fallen god, cause you look like you could be Apollo.” Grantaire spoke casually.

Although Enjolras was tired of his friends teasing him about how much he looked like a god, it felt sort of nice hearing it him. The compliment came off easily, and with no mocking remark, Enjolras almost enjoyed it.

“I’m Grantaire, by the way. But my friend’s call me R.” The horse masked man spoke. His voice was deep and slightly hoarse, but also soft, Enjolras thought.

“I’m Enjolras.” Enjolras extended his hand to shake Grantaire’s.

Grantaire extended his arm towards Enjolras’ to shake it and a sliver of skin showed beneath his sleeve; his compass was showing and Grantaire looked down to it, the nose of the horse mask facing the floor. A sharp gasp could be heard from within the mask and Enjolras looked down to their hands, noticing what Grantaire saw.

Grantaire’s compass was frozen; the needle stuck on the ‘E’. 

“Woah.” Grantaire breathed and released Enjolras’ hand and lifted his sleeve to inspect his compass.

“Was that like that before?” Enjolras asked, staring at his forearm, impressed by the curly, rustic looking compass on Grantaire’s arm. Everyone has their own looking compass, but Enjolras has never seen one as detailed as his before.

“No.” Grantaire sounded, slightly scared, like he’d just seen a ghost, or maybe that was just the ghost that was doing the robot a few feet from them.

“Do you wanna sit down?” Enjolras asked, not sure what to do in this type of situation.

“Yeah.” Grantaire’s voice lost all it’s luster and sounded pale.

Enjolras escorted Grantaire to the table he and his friends were sitting at before they all went to dance. Grantaire took a seat and stared at his compass, the horse mask facing completely downward.

“I never really believed in any of this.” Grantaire looked up to Enjolras, raising his forearm.

“Yeah, me neither.” Enjolras raised his own arm, showing off his compass, the needle still spinning in wild circles. “This thing’s been spinning all night.” Enjolras lowered his arm and rested it on his lap. “How is this even supposed to find my “soulmate”?” 

“I think it’s broken or something.” Grantaire joked, earning a chuckle from Enjolras. “I don’t believe in any of it - soulmates, fate, destiny - it’s all just a load.”

“Yeah.” Enjolras agreed, happy to finally meet someone with the same opinion as his. All his friends were completely sold to the idea of magic soulmate compasses, mostly because all their compasses had stopped, except for Enjolras’, but that’s besides the point.

Grantaire noticed the lyre on the table beside him, picked it up, and started tugging away at the strings. He played a soft song and Enjolras struggled to listen, but what he could hear sounded beautiful.

“How do you know how to play that?”

“Well, Apollo, I play the guitar, this things not much different, at least it doesn’t seem to be.” Grantaire placed the lyre back down on the table.

A loud silence fell between them and Enjolras struggled to fill it.

“So, thanks for saving me out there, I was just kinda awkwardly standing there. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I could tell, your dance moves are a little… well… bad. To put it nicely.” Grantaire joked.

Enjolras laughed and softly kicked him against the foot. “I’m not that bad.”

“Oh, please. That mummy over there has better moves than you.” Grantaire pointed to a dancing mummy on the dance floor doing the worm.

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was the first time in a long time since he’s laughed a genuine laugh, and already, Grantaire has made him laugh more than he has all week.

They teased one another, pointing out dancers on the dance floor and comparing them to each other.

Time passed and Enjolras and Grantaire continued to talk, none of Enjolras friends had come back from dancing, and the crowd on the dance floor grew bigger to where they looked like one big mass rather than individual people.

“Man, it’s getting hot in here.” Grantaire pulled at the collar of his suit, slightly loosening his green tie.

“Why don’t you take the mask off?”

“And reveal my true identity? Why, Apollo, that goes against the rules of Halloween.” Grantaire sounded slightly offended, and dramatically moved his hand to his chest.

“Alright, but if you pass out from heat exhaustion I’ll say ‘I told you so’.” Enjolras joked.

“You’re right, I heard tonight was going to be the best party of the year, I don’t want to die at it.” Grantaire slid his fingers beneath the horse mask and slowly slid it off, revealing a mane of messy dark curls and oh gosh, is that beard scruff? Enjolras most definitely does not have a weak spot for beard scruff.

Enjolras stared at his face, admiring the scruffy curve of his jaw line and full lips. He couldn’t tear his eyes from Grantaire’s lips, they were large and inviting, and Enjolras definitely didn’t want to press his lips against those and explore the depths of Grantaire’s mouth, that’s absurd.

Grantaire noticed Enjolras staring and chuckled, blushing slightly, which did not make Enjolras want to place a kiss on his warm blush.

“I guess that’s what I would’ve looked like if I didn’t have on the mask” Grantaire ran a hand through his messy curls and looked down at his lap.

Enjolras’ face blazed in a red hue, the blush making its way to his ears, and Enjolras looked down, slightly embarrassed. 

Enjolras rubbed the back of his neck and looked up to Grantaire’s eyes, being met by a pair or piercing blue eyes. Enjolras had nothing to compare the blue of Grantaire’s eyes to, he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life and was in awe.

Grantaire chuckled again, and gave a crooked smile.

After he noticed he was staring again, Enjolras looked down to his lap and to his compass.

Immediately, Enjolras knew something was wrong. His face contorted into a mixture of emotions of confusion, shock, and fear. The needle of his compass had stopped spinning and pointed north, towards Grantaire.

 

Enjolras slowly looked up, to an oblivious Grantaire and held out his arm, showing him his newly immobile compass.

“But, that can’t be.” Grantaire’s voice was quiet, barely over a whisper, but Enjolras could still hear him. Somehow he’d drowned out the noise of the party and all he heard was Grantaire’s voice, slow and shaky. “It’s not real.”

Enjolras’ breathing grew heavy. His eyes kept darting back and forth from his compass to Grantaire.

“It only stopped after I looked at you.” Enjolras whispered, still in disbelief.

“But mine…” Grantaire trailed off, trying to understand.

“You were able to see me, but I couldn’t see you.” Enjolras put the puzzle together.

Enjolras’ face grew even redder. If he did believe in the whole soul mate thing, he wouldn’t complain about who his compass stopped on.

Grantaire was about to speak, but Enjolras cut him off before he began and planted a firm kiss against his lips, savoring the sweet, sugary taste of Grantaire’s lips and enjoying the feeling of Grantaire’s scruff against his face.

Enjolras pulled back from the kiss just as quick as he went into it and blushed once again, looking down at his hands.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, feeling ashamed, like he should’ve asked for permission first; or what if the whole soul mate thing really is wank and Enjolras just kissed someone who may very well not be his soul mate?

“Apollo,” Grantaire spoke softly, and he may or may not have sounded a bit seductive as well. “If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.” Grantaire smiled a wicked smile and leaned forward, lifting his hands to cup Enjolras’ face and bring his lips closer, ‘till they were touching, and firmly pressed their lips together.

Grantaire gently prodded Enjolras’ lips open with his tongue. Enjolras’ tongue danced with Grantaire’s as they moved to match the beat of their hearts. The kiss quickly grew fiercer and Grantaire ran his hand through Enjolras’ hair, gently pulling at the locks, igniting soft moans to escape Enjolras’ mouth.

They pulled apart from their kiss and stared at each other. The rest of the party was nonexistent to them and them to the party, being in the darkest corner of the room at a table all alone.

“You know, for not believing in the whole soul mates thing, I’m pretty glad my compass pointed me to you.” Grantaire spoke softly, still entangling his fingers in Enjolras’ hair.

“Me too.” Enjolras spoke, grabbing Grantaire’s free hand and gently squeezing it. “You know, I can safely say that this actually was the best party of the year.”

“Me too.” Grantaire squeezed Enjolras’ hand right back.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! Comments and constructive criticism is welcomed, as well as kudos c: Follow me on Tumblr at RoguesAndPoets ^w^


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